In the winter, fresh snow on the ground, I know there will be rabbit tracks across my front sidewalk in the morning. East to west. I’ve seen them enough to know the pattern is there, whether it snows or not. The snow records our steps. Our direction. Our patterns. The world we live and work in is built to guide our movements. Highways. Sidewalks. And much more. Each day, like that rabbit, we make the same journeys. What would you see if someone recorded your footprints? I suspect you’d see much

This Thanksgiving we revisit two Perspectives from our archives in which the authors debate an age-old question: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Dan Libman threw down the gauntlet with an essay from Feb. 6, 2015 (included at the bottom of this post). It was swiftly followed by this rebuttal from Reed Scherer. Enjoy this Poultry Slam! Dan, I appreciate your perspective on this age-old question, but I’m afraid your interpretation is foundationally, logically, and fundamentally incorrect.

On this Thanksgiving, we revisit two Perspectives from our archives in which the authors debate an age-old question: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Dan Libman threw down the gauntlet with this essay from Feb. 6, 2015. It was swiftly followed by a rebuttal from Reed Scherer, which we include at the bottom of this post. Enjoy this Poultry Slam! Want to know which came first, the chicken or the egg? I’ll tell you because I know. This is not a trick to keep you listening, I actually do

A couple of Thanksgivings ago -- driving back to the western suburbs from Chicago -- I got caught in a major traffic backup on I-88. My first thought was how awful that someone had been in an accident on this day of family gatherings. But as we inched along, finally getting close to our exit at Farnsworth, we realized we were trapped in the Black Friday mob lining up for the midnight opening of the outlet mall. Then I got really annoyed. I won’t say that I don’t enjoy shopping from time to time,

In 1977, the great British punk band The Clash released one of their most blistering protest – rather, call-to-action -- songs, “White Riot,” with lyrics like: Black people gotta lot a problems But they don’t mind throwing a brick White people go to school Where they teach you how to be thick… White riot – I want to riot White riot – a riot of my own Lead singer Joe Strummer explained the song is not about white nationalism or supremacy but that the white working class should follow the lead of

Sometimes, while reading a news story, a single phrase will appear to jump out at me, essentially telling me all I really need to know. That was the case recently, when a proposal to build a senior housing complex was strongly opposed. The audience groaned when they learned that the vast majority of occupants would be "low income." As someone who definitely qualifies as “low income,” and for whom home ownership is an abandoned dream, I'd like to offer these thoughts: Low income, per se, has no

Light, from 93 million miles away, warms my face past trees and through glass. Three blades of grass grow from a tiny crack in the stone that holds back my garden. I cut, pull, and even spray, but they return. Life: persistent and miraculous and, yes, stubborn. Lately, racism and sexism pop up like stubborn grass. Even if we try to shade ourselves, memes, scandals, studies, and protests permeate like light from our closest star. How do I reconcile what I know to be a much more tolerant and

The past 12 months have been a challenge. Harvey, Maria, political division and -- closer to home -- two tragedies for Marengo, Ill.: a community-changing traffic accident on December 15, and an explosion on June 11. Our community rose to assist with unbridled compassion both times. Having lived it, I feel being a victim and a refugee is an experience we all need to have. The things that are important are laid bare. Life becomes basic: the clothes that can fit in a suitcase, coffee with a

Pooh Bear, it’s widely known, is a bear of very little brain. What he lacks in cognition, however, he makes up for in appetite. In the Hundred Acre Wood, Pooh’s appetite is legendary. Remember the time he went to Rabbit’s house and ate so much of Rabbit’s honey that he couldn’t fit out the door? Even that humiliation didn’t curb Pooh’s appetite. At a certain point, a strong appetite counts for you. Later on, it’s a point against. Pooh Bear now lives in my daughter Iris’s bedroom. Pooh’s

I have three daughters -- two in college and one still in high school. Even without the built-in dad bias, I can objectively state that they are highly intelligent, highly capable and independent young adults. That said, and like most dads, I still worry about what they will run into at school and in the workplace. And I worry because of all the creeps, losers and miscreants who, in 2017, still somehow think they are entitled to sexually harass others. I know this isn’t just a male-female